


Under the Bleachers

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Weecest, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants to give Sam a normal high school experience. Of course, Dean and Sam may differ on what they consider the highlights of high school, but Sam finds that Dean can pretty easily sway him to his point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Bleachers

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone--  
> This is another older fic I'm migrating over from Tumblr. Warnings for weecest (Sam at least sixteen), semi-public sex (under the bleachers), and mutual handjobs.  
> Hope you enjoy.

            Dean usually didn’t get Sam’s desire to be normal. Sam knows that his brother likes hunting, has grown accustomed to living the way they do, and doesn’t understand why Sam may want anything else. Still, every once in a while, he indulges Sam.

            They’re staying in a motel in the middle of Tennessee. Sam is attending the local high school—the fifth one so far, and it’s only October. John has been gone four days, says he’ll be home next weekend, but neither Sam nor Dean believe that, even if Dean pretends that he does. Maybe they’ll get lucky. Maybe John will stay gone for a month, maybe two. Maybe he’ll actually remember to send cash, because Dean’s part-time job bussing tables at the diner—the best he could get, with no actual qualifications—isn’t going to cover the motel and food and gas for very long. Maybe they’ll get to stay for a while, pretend like this is their home, have a normal life.

            There are a ton of reasons to like John gone, from avoiding the yelling and the lecturing and the drinking and the training to having Dean to himself. The motel room has two beds but they’ve only used one, have slept curled around each other and fucked out every single night since John left.

            Sam likes normal. But he likes his brother more.

            Dean comes home from work on Friday when Sam is doing his homework, expects the normal eye-roll for being a nerd and maybe a hair ruffle before some complaining. What he doesn’t expect is for his jacket—Dean’s first, but now Dean wears Dad’s older leather jacket and Sam wears this—to sail across the room and hit him in the head.

            “C’mon,” Dean says. “We’re going out.”

            Sam doesn’t protest, doesn’t argue that he has homework or that they’re in the middle of nowhere and there’s nowhere to go. They’re all valid thoughts, but the overriding factor is, as usual, Dean is asking him, and Sam is willing to do anything Dean asks.

            Dean teases and refuses to tell him where they’re going, just drives the Impala with one hand on the wheel and the other on Sam’s knee. They stay like that until Dean pulls up to the high school, parks at the back of the already full lot, and shuts the engine.

            Sam makes a face. “The football game?” he asks. “Really?”

            Dean takes his hand from Sam’s knee and ruffles his hair. “Gonna be fun, Sammy,” he promises, and Sam privately doubts that, but if going to a football game with Sam is what Dean really wants to do with his Friday night, then Sam will oblige him.

            Dean pays for their tickets and then buys them hotdogs and popcorn and sodas, and they get seats in the bleachers, eating their food while the game starts.

            Sam knows enough about football to be able to follow the game, but he’s not very interested, and, from what he can see, neither is Dean. Sam wonders why they’re here, why Dean dragged them to a high school football game neither of them cares about in the slightest. He keeps wondering until Dean takes Sam’s hand at half-time, mutters a quiet, “c’mon,” and drags Sam down the bleacher steps, out behind them, and finally under them.

            “Dean, what the hell—“ Sam begins, but Dean stops him from finishing the sentence with a kiss. Eyes wide, Sam looks around, but no one is under there to see them, and, even if anyone were to come down, Dean has backed them into a corner, blocking anyone from seeing anything save the back of Dean’s jacket. Reassured, Sam closes his eyes, relaxing into the kiss.

            That is, he relaxes until he feels Dean’s hand on his crotch, fingers fumbling to unzip him. Sam breaks the kiss. “Dean?” he asks, hesitant.

            “Shh,” Dean soothes, fingers now inside Sam’s pants, pulling Sam’s cock out. “That’s all I’m gonna do, Sammy, no more. But every high school kid is supposed to get a hand job under the bleachers, right?”

            Sam rolls his eyes, because  _of course_  this is what Dean thinks of when he thinks ‘normal high school experience.’ But Dean now has Sam in his hand and is setting a fast pace, so Sam gets a shaking hand on Dean’s zipper, gets Dean’s cock out and does his best to match Dean’s pace.

            It doesn’t take either of them long to come, covering each other’s hands and breathing heavily. Dean uses his free hand to dig a pack of tissues out of his pocket which he uses to clean the both of them up before tucking them both away.

            “Wanna go back to the game?” Dean asks, uncertain now, like he’s not sure how the rest of this is supposed to play out.

            “ _Fuck no,_ ” Sam says. “Wanna go back to the room and want you to actually fuck me, Dean.”

            Dean’s grin is blinding, and he wraps an arm around Sam’s shoulders, leading him to the car.

            Dean might not get why Sam wants normal, might not see why it’s important, but when he indulges Sam, he gets the  _best_  rewards.

 


End file.
